


Life is moving faster now

by darkandstormyslash



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Charlie and Curly talking about the events of season 5 up to episode 3, Domestic, M/M, Spoilers, Spoilers for Season 5, older men worrying about the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 02:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: A little domestic moment of Charlie and Curly worrying about whats coming next.Written for the Peaky Emergency Response Challenge - one fic for each episode in season 5 as they come out! This is my episode 3 fic, so SPOILERS for the events of episode 3.





	Life is moving faster now

Curly always takes a while to get ready for bed. Each item of clothing is carefully folded and stored away, with much worrying over the tidiness of it all. Charlie supposes it's something to do with a life spent travelling in caravans and barges. Everything needs to be as neat and small as possible. Most evenings he enjoys it, watching Curly by the dying edge of the fire as he slowly folds and counts and frets over his cravat. It slows the world down, gives it space and time that the frantic panic of the day no longer seems to possess.

This evening though, Curly seems to be taking even longer than usual. Charlie is starting to get impatient. "Come to bed, Curly."

There's silence, and that's when Charlie knows that something's up. This isn't just Curly's usual bedtime routine, he's taking the time because he's unhappy about something and doesn't want to be lying in bed where he'll have to think about it. 

"What is it, Curly." He asks more gently, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

There's a silence as Curly fiddles nervously with his cravat. "I'm worried, Charlie."

"What's worrying you?"

Curly chews at his lower lip, finally folding the cravat and gently tucking it away inside his hat. "I'm worried about Arthur Shelby, yes. I do hope his Linda hasn't left."

"Worrying about my nephews is a full time job, Curly. You save your worry for the horses and the yard, alright?"

The mattress creaks and dips as Curly sits down on it, large and unhappy. "I know she didn't like us all that much, Charlie, but she was nice to him. She made him happy. That's important. Without her, I don't think he will be happy."

"No." Charlie answers slowly. He agrees with Curly, of course he does, but he's not sure how much further he wants to discuss this. Worrying about the Shelby boys is a quick way to an early grave, and he doesn't want it infecting Curly. "I don't think he will be. Come on and lie down. It's late."

The mattress dips again as Curly lies into it, his hands slipping up to wrap around Charlie for comfort. Usually Curly splays out over the bed, and it's noticeable that tonight he wants to cling. Charlie doesn't think he's ever seen Curly this emotionally wound up for something that wasn't a horse. 

Gently, Charlie wraps his arms around the body next to him. Curly, who they always called slow at school. But Curly isn't slow, he's just built on a different timescale to everyone else. Curly works in seasons, in the turning of the earth and the rising of the sun. It's the rest of the world which has sped up too fast, and Curly's world is being left behind. Curly speaks to horses, and understands the land. He's lost amidst bright sparks and whirring machines. 

"I don't like him being up north all alone, not with those wicked men." Curly breaths into Charlie's shoulder. "And I don't think Johnny Dogs will look after him properly."

Johnny Dogs, workshy and fancy-free that he is. Charlie doesn't have much time for Johnny Dogs, who never seems to have grown beyond a truanting little schoolboy in Charlie Strong's eyes. Sometimes he wonders what Tommy sees in him. Johnny isn't brave, or strong, or even particularly clever. But then again, maybe that's not what Tommy needs. Brave, strong, and clever men can be bought, for anyone with the money to buy them. The one thing that can't be bought is loyalty, and that's what Tommy needs more than anything.

"Arthur will be fine." Charlie murmurs, stroking Curly's back. "They'll get Aberama and drag him back down again. Then Tommy can sort the bully-boys out."

"Aunt Polly can look after Mister Gold, yes. She can make him all better" Curly's head nods against the crook of his arm, "Then they can have a summer wedding. We need a wedding, Charlie, it's been so long since the last proper one. Tommy had both of his in the big house, and Mister Gray on a boat. The last time we had a proper good wedding, that was-"

Then Curly stops, and Charlie realises he should have stopped him a long time ago. A wave of old weary sadness flows over him, and Charlie closes his eyes waiting for it to pass.

"That was, yes, that was John-boy." Curly murmurs sorrowfully against his arm.

That was John-boy. The war couldn't kill him, but feuding did. 

They lay in silence for a bit, until a quiet snore from Curly convinces him the other man is asleep. It's only then that Charlie moves, gently rolling away from Curly's body and carefully tucking him up, before grabbing a pipe and sitting out by the canal.

He lights it with a dying fire-coal, and sits staring moodily out over the water. He feels like the canal sometimes, a sluggish and slow-moving old relic of a slower time. Time before the railways sliced across the land like surgical scars, before the world moved so quick and left the slow behind. Tommy's mind moves like a machine, gears spinning and cogs whirring, and it occurs to Charlie that machines don't run any better than people if they've got a screw loose. Tommy is actively carving his way out of the past and towards the future, but one day Charlie worries all the near-misses he's had along the way will catch up with him, all at once.

Three years ago he was tunneling into a Russian jewel-vault. Two years before that he was taking over London by pitting the two most dangerous men in it against each other. It seems a whole lifetime ago when all Tommy Shelby was doing was hiding guns in an empty grave.

That grave is full now. It isn't the only grave Tommy's filled.

Sighing, Charlie Strong taps his pipe out on the brickwork. Arthur's gone up to Scotland, with an ache in his heart and slashed skin on his knuckles. Finn has a new bullet hole, Aberama's son is dead, and Tommy is in a London full of more infested snakes than the betting business was.

"I hope you know what you're doing Tom." he murmurs out over the water. It might be dark, but the noises of the fast-moving city still continue, in a way that's not entirely comforting.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a blatant self-insert as I am also worried about the Peaky Boys and want to give Curly a hug.
> 
> Title is from Wiley


End file.
